


Flesh and Bone

by theinspiredginger



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Stiles, Bonding, Crossover, Dean deals with feelings, Dean/Stiles brotp, Derek deals with feelings, Destiel - Freeform, Everybody Lives, Happy Ending, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Derek, Purgatory, Stiles deals with feelings, True Love, everybody deals with feelings, sterek, stiles is benny...kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinspiredginger/pseuds/theinspiredginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's trapped in Purgatory looking for his angel when a not so subtle kid in a red sweatshirt asks to team up. Dean takes Little Red Riding Hoodie underneath his wing as they try to escape. </p><p>Or the one where Stiles bargains with a witch to get sent to purgatory to save Derek and finds Dean instead. They work together to find a way out of Purgatory as they each look for their "person".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flesh and Bone

**Author's Note:**

> **_Russian Translation by the wonderful katarzynaquins: "http://ficbook.net/readfic/2353282"_**

Dean sat slumped against the hollow of an old redwood, his jagged blade resting lightly on his thigh. The last of the night’s shadows dulled as the sunlight filtered through the trees. Dean rolled his shoulders as he rubbed his eyes. He could feel the grime and dirt on his face and hands, but it wasn’t abnormal, not surprising in the least.

 

It wasn’t his first week in purgatory. He’d gotten used to the sparse showers and sparser food. He’d been in purgatory for close to four months, though he’d never bothered to count the days. At first, it hadn’t even occurred to him that knowing the length of time passed would be beneficial, by the time it did occur to him, he’d pulled too many all nighters and had passed out too many times to have an accurate gage on what day it was.  

 

The time didn’t really matter though, not really. It wasn’t like he had any plan on how to get out. He didn't have a countdown clock to tell him when Sam was going to find out a way to get him the hell out of there. Dean just knew that when that time came, it was going to be a one time deal, and he wouldn’t have time to find Cas. So he had one goal with an unknown time limit. He had to find Cas, and they could figure things out together. Find a way out together. Fight their way out together.

 

That was the key. _Together_.

 

Four months and still no Cas. He’d sworn he’d traversed all of Purgatory by now, but with each day he stumbled upon a new acreage of land. If anything the new discoveries kept up his morale. It meant there were still more hidden places for Cas to be.

 

Dean cracked his neck and stood up, stretching his coiled muscles. He smiled when he realized the permanent kink in his neck was less stressed than usual. That thought alone just had him shaking his head.   _What I’d do for some ibuprofen..._

 

He peered out of his hobble of a shelter before stepping out into the open. If it was one thing he learned in purgatory was curiosity killed the cat, and caution saved its ass. He made it about three feet from his safety net when a thunderous crack rattled through the woods. He jumped back, weapon raised. He waited a moment before he heard a soft moan coming through the bushes not five feet away. Keeping an eye on the bushes and the surrounding fifty feet, he approached cautiously.

 

The shrubs rustled as a slightly bruised hand pushed them out of the way. Dean stood still and as a teenage looking boy drug his way out of the thorns. He barely made it to a standing position before Dean pushed him down and held the knife to his throat.

 

“WOAH, woah! Wait! Stop! Don’t kill me! Please!”  Awkwardly holding his hands up in surrender, the kid stared at Dean. Dean meant to drag the knife against the _thing’s_ carotid, but somehow words bubbled to his mouth and spilled out.

 

“What are you?” The kid’s brown eyes seemed to light up at the question.

“Human! Human! See? Flesh and bone. I’m a human!  And by the looks of it, so are you! And by the handcrafted knife-sword-dagger thing, I’m guessin’ you’re a hunter too!” Dean jerked his head back, the knife following an inch, no more than two.

 

“ _You’re_ a hunter?” The incredibility was apparent in the tone.

“What? Me? No. But um I have had my fair share of dealing with the supernatural. I know all about the things that go bump in the night.” Dean narrowed his eyes and against his better judgement continued the conversation.

 

“You’re human. Why are you in purgatory?” The kid opened his mouth once, closed it then tried again.

 

“Long version or short vers--Okay, short. Um, made a deal with a witch.”

“Deal went south, huh?” Dean was already backing away from the kid, and extending a hand to help him up. The kid took it and jumped up, brushing the dirt and leaves from his red hoodie.

“I’m in purgatory right?” Dean nodded. “Then nope! Seems like everything’s goin’ pretty smoothly.” Dean scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion.

“Kid, why would you _want_ to be in purgatory.”  The kid laughed once and shook his head.

“Now, _that’s_ the long story.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Stiles cracked his knuckles as he pulled the silver knife from the holder tied to his calf. It was about 9 inches long and the silver had been melted with traces of wolfsbane. It was Stiles’ favorite and most trusted weapon, but he wasn’t so sure how much it would help him in out in purgatory. But a knife was a knife, right?

 

He walked alongside Dean for a couple of hours, in an unspoken partnership. They came across a stream and were drinking handfuls of the water before Stiles decided he should bring it up.

 

“So, as to why I gladly hoped the train to Purgatory, I’m looking for someone. He got sent here a few months ago; I’ve been looking for a way to get him out. Took forever but I found a way and uh, yeah, I know how to get out. I’d be happy to help you get out too, but I have to find my...person.” Stiles rubbed the back of his head, the cool water droplets snaking through his short hair and running down his neck.

 

“You know a way out?” Dean looked over as he splashed one last handful of water on his face.

“Yeah, see, Purgatory was never meant for humans. That early church stuff before the Reformation, that said it was like a waiting room before you got sent to the Sauna or Paradise, was just a bunch of crap to get people to buy indulgences. But Purgatory was always, and only meant, for monsters. And monsters only. Yet, somehow humans find themselves in Purgatory. So the only way to escape Purgatory is if you’re human.”

 

“And how do you escape?”

“There are portals all around Purgatory. They open and close, and spring up in different locations. Each time a new one springs up they’re open for about three hours before they close and pop over to a new location. Now the portals are mainly for things to come _in_ , but, humans are the only ones able to get back through.”

 

“ _Only_ humans.”

“Yeah, but I read that a human can carry a non-human person through the portal. Not like bridal style though. You gotta cut open your arm, do this sorta blood ritual thing, and then they like go inside your arm. Then you walk through the portal and once you’re top side, you cut open the same spot on your arm, and they pop out.”  Dean nodded, having an end point in sight for his goal to find Cas.

 

“You said you were looking for someone?” Stiles nodded as Dean continued, “Yeah, well, me too.” Stiles smiled wide in response, putting Dean off a little by it.

 

“Okay, great! So we’ll find our people and then we’ll get the hell out of here!”  Dean didn't understand the kid’s willingness to suddenly drag two extras along in his mission, but Dean wasn’t going to question it. He knew he now had a way out, and this kid wasn’t going to last very long on his own. So they’d stick it out together.  And that was that.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  


It’d been a few more weeks and somewhere along the way they’d exchanged names and few stories. Dean still didn't know too much about the kid, and he could tell Stiles wasn’t all that forth giving about his past. But Dean could understand that, boy could he understand that.

 

He had the jist of Stiles’ story. He was just an average 16 year old when he’d been shoved head first into the world of the supernatural. And once you’re in, you’re in. There’s no do over’s, no turning back. He and his friends had somehow gotten themselves into a supernatural war and the end was nowhere in sight.

 

“Seriously, though. Just when one threat’s taken care of, a new creature strolls into town to wreck havoc.”

Dean huffed a laugh, “Yeah, well. It doesn’t get any better. You aren’t blind to it all. There’s no going back on that one.”

“If you told me three years ago, that a majority of my time would be spent running around the woods at night with a knife and a baseball bat hunting things like faeries and Kanimas and witches and elves and vampires--and oh deargodwhatelse have we dealt with?--well I would have wrapped you up snug in a little straight jacket and sent you off to a padded room. And,” Stiles laughed, a smile spreading across his now permanently dirty face, “if you told six-months-ago-me, that I’d make a deal with a witch to get sent to purgatory to hunt down Derek just to save his stupid ass...well, I’d probably have choked to death from laughing so hard.”

 

“Derek. He’s the one you’re looking for?” Stiles nodded as he continued to hike through the rough terrain. “He your brother?”

 

“Nah. He’s my...I’ve known him for a long time. He means a lot to me. And yeah. I can’t really describe him as a friend. I don’t know. It’s complicated.” Stiles attempted to shrug off the conversation, but it just kept nagging at him. Dean walked in companionable silence. “Have you ever met someone, that when you first met them you hated them? Like you see them and you don’t really know them, you sure as hell don’t trust them, and you’d have absolutely no problem with shooting them in the head.” _Or stabbing them in the chest,_ Dean thought. “But then, you’re kind of forced to work with them. Whether you want to or not, you just have to. And you still don’t trust them and they don’t you, but you make it work. You help each other out and you’re there when the shit hits the fan.

 

“But the more you kind of work with them, the more you begin to trust them, and understand them. You start helping him out more and more and you trust him to help you out. And,  that person, he becomes like family, but that’s not quite it. You can’t really put your finger on it, but they aren’t family. It’s not that they aren’t as close or as important as your family is; it’s just different. And you try to like--shrug it off. Pretend it’s not what it is. But then you’re jumping into pools to keep them from drowning and he’s making sure you’re the one that’s carried to safety. And you can’t shrug it off anymore. As much as you want to, you can’t. And then he’s an idiot and in trying to protect you, gets his ass sent to Purgatory. And you realize you’re going to save him. That there’s no one else who cares like you do, that it’s no one else’s job but yours.”

 

Stiles shook his head as Dean listened intently.

 

“That you’re in love with a self sacrificing, self loathing, nutjob, who makes horrible decisions based on good intentions. And that you’re willing to jump head first into Purgatory to save him.”  Dean laughed, and while he cursed that it probably just notified every monster, creature, and abomination, in the place of where they were, he just couldn’t stop the chuckling.

 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Stiles rolled his eyes as he trudged ahead.

“Stiles, wait. I’m not laughing at you, honest.” Stiles had turned around, his arm with the blade by his side. “It’s just...you and I have a lot more in common than I thought.” Dean shook his head, watched Stiles do something...weird with this forehead. Stiles tried again but one look at Dean’s reaction made him think maybe the arching of eyebrows was purely a werewolf ability.

  


And that’s how the weeks continued. They’d hike for hours, no real destination, just searching. They ran into numerous monsters, and Dean was shocked at how many had a personal vendetta against Stiles. He, himself, had quite a few run ins with past adversaries as well. Dean was also surprised at Stiles fighting ability. He was no Sam, but he could wield a knife and a tree branch with more ease than Garth. Dean had also been expecting Stiles to take cover when under attack, but he came to see that Stiles was normally putting himself between Dean and whatever monster of the hour was attacking them. With each revelation, Dean was always somewhat surprised, but then again _You don’t make deals with witches and purposefully send yourself to Purgatory if you’re a sissy bitch._

 

They worked pretty well together as a team. Dean definitely felt that they covered more land per day than he had on his own. They paced each other and were able to move faster by having two sets of eyes on the lookout. With each vampire, faerie, wendigo, and any other monster that attacked them, Stiles and Dean questioned each and every one. Dean did most of the questioning, mostly asking for information about the angel’s location. Stiles didn’t ask too much about his person, Derek.

 

Stiles would normally kill the first monster in the group without saying anything, then let Dean questioned the remaining one. Dean would then normally turn it over to Stiles, who mainly introduced himself loud and clear. He called himself Little Red Riding Hoodie, and as many times as he said, it still always caught Dean off guard.  

 

“Dude, why do you just introduce yourself to everyone? Half the population of this damn place probably knows who you are now.” Stiles smirked as he pushed himself up the hill.

 

“Dude, that’s the _point_. I know Derek. He’s not going to go around attacking anything that comes his way. He’s probably holed up somewhere  only going out in public to hunt for food and water. My goal is that one of these times he’ll hear that Little Red Riding Hoodie is out looking for him.”

 

“And he knows you as Little Red Riding Hoodie?” Dean raised an eyebrow, and Stiles cursed his ruined theory, but then laughed.

 

“Let’s just say I had to wear him down to appreciate the hilarity of the joke.” Stiles was keeping the whole _my-person-Derek’s-a-werewolf_ thing quiet because as much as he liked and truly trusted Dean, he also knew hunters. And from every previous experience he’s had with hunters, they’re more of the kill first, ask questions later type of people. Stiles’ first interaction with Dean didn't exactly negate that presumption either.

 

They would hike for hours, deal with whatever came their way, make a small camp, then hunker down for the night. They’d take turns on watch and Dean was finally able to get some legitimate sleep. Stiles had a twinge of insomnia ever since his mom died. It would come and go in waves, and his Adderall seemed to calm him down enough to sleep most nights. But the insomnia worsened ever since the supernatural black cat was let out of the bag. It started with the increased all nighters and the waking up at all hours to go “deal” with whatever was lurking in the woods. The disrupted sleep pattern paired with the increased amount of stress and fear made a full eight hours night’s rest hard to come by.

 

Stiles self-diagnosed himself, with the help of the internet, with moderate to severe insomnia. He never got medication because not only would that mean going to the doctor’s to get a prescription, it meant acknowledging his dad’s concerns that ‘yeah, not everything’s fine’.

 

So he didn't mind letting Dean sleep longer than his shift entailed. He ignored Dean’s sideways glances whenever he woke him up an hour or two late. Even without insomnia, Stiles felt like he wouldn’t be getting much sleep here anyway.

 

A few days back, they had gotten word from a vampire that the angel was known to hang around the east side near the river. However, if they wanted to avoid the nest of leviathans that camped around there, they were going to have to take a roundabout way.  They decided the best way was to make a sort of ‘V’ shape: to travel up diagonally and then travel down diagonally, bypassing the majority of the leviathans. They still would probably run into some, but the only way to avoid them altogether would be to circle around the opposite way, which could take weeks.

 

Dean really reconsidered his decision to partner himself with the kid when Stiles justified the chosen route as,

“You gotta risk it to get the biscuit.”

  


The constant shadows that followed them throughout purgatory didn't disappear as they got closer and closer to their destination. It’d been three days since they started this new mission and it was obvious the stakes were higher now. They ran into more deadly things in those three days than they had in a week’s worth of time before. Stiles still kept his torn and dirtied sweatshirt even though the red made them an easily seen target in the dulled color of the woods.

 

Dean didn't give him shit for it though.  And that was what surprised Stiles the most.

 

They’d just picked a place to camp when three vampires sprang from an overhanging cliff. Dean decapitated one right off the bat, but the other two circled around Stiles. Stiles shoved one off momentarily to go at the second one. Stiles received a hard hit against his ribs before he was able to get a clean cut with his blade. With two down and one to go, Dean and Stiles double teamed it. Dean was about to deliver the final blow when Stiles worked his way in between and slammed it up against the nearby tree. Dean was taken aback but remained as backup behind him. Stiles held the blade to its throat and drew a droplet of blood before speaking.

 

“Where did you get that jacket?” Stiles’ voice was hard and even but the vampire just rolled his eyes. “I said, _Where. Did You Get. That Jacket._ ” Stiles pressed the blade against the vampire’s throat. The vampire seemed to weigh his options for just a moment before very delicately nodding once.

 

“I found it. Over the east side’s ridge.”

“Where?” Stiles’ harsh tone was almost lost in the way the word was breathed out.

“I told you--”

“I mean was it hanging up on a coat hanger? In the river? On a body? What?”

“It was laying on a patch of soft dirt--”

“Give me the jacket.”

“Wha--”

“Are you inept? I said _Give me the jacket._ ” The vampire slowly shrugged out of the leather coat, the blade constantly pressed against his jugular. “Now you said it was over the east side’s ridge? Before or after you hit the river?” The vampire threw a sideways glance at Dean, whose glare was just barreling down on him.

 

“Um, I can show you. I’ll take you to it...”

“Was there any blood in the area? Where you found the jacket--”

“No, just a small clearing behind some bushes. Not bigger than ten feet in diameter. It’s against the cliff wall.”  Stiles nodded once, the jacket hung over his arm.

 

“Dean.” Dean took a step closer. “Can you deal with this one?” The vampire open its mouth to scream but too late before  Dean’s weapon hit the bark of the tree and the vampire’s head rolled to the ground.

 

It was silent for a moment as Stiles stood facing the east ridge, the dirty leather jacket gripped tightly between his fingers.

 

“It’s Derek’s jacket.” He spoke the words softly as if he was too scared to say them out loud, as if saying the words would suddenly make it untrue.  

 

“We still got an hour or so of daylight. We could make our way over there.” Stiles shook his head.

 

“No. We’re heading over there in the morning anyway. If we leave now, we’re just going to have to find a _new_ place to camp and fight for the right to stay there all over again. And...I’m tired.”  

 

“Stiles, I got first watch tonight. Go get some rest.” Stiles, for once, didn't need to be told twice. He and Dean began to clear the ground of sticks and rocks to make a somewhat acceptable sleeping place. Dean hauled an old log in front of the makeshift bed and plopped down on top of it.  He sharpened his blade as night fell and he looked up at the sky and prayed his nightly prayer to Cas. His prayers seemed to last longer and longer as the days, weeks, and months went on.

 

Before they were just a simple. _Cas, Please be okay. Watch out for yourself_. Then they lengthened to pleas that Cas was safe, and laments that he hadn’t found Cas yet, and updates on his own location, that if by some miracle he could hear him, that they could find each other. Now they were just one sided conversations that could last Dean his whole shift. He’d mentioned the ‘ _please be okay’_ s and the ‘ _I’ll find you soon_ ’ s too. But he now also just talked about his day, old memories that Stiles reminded him of, the batshit crazy antics he had to put up with from Stiles, and anything that crossed his mind.

 

It made him feel closer to Cas. And in a way it kept him sane, that and Stiles. As independent as he was, Dean realized he wouldn’t have made it this far without the hyperactive teenager.

 

Dean turned around instinctively as his thoughts shifted to the kid. He did a double take not recognizing Stiles at first. Stiles was missing his sweatshirt. The red dingy cloth was balled underneath his head as a pillow. It was only after Dean’s eyes adjusted better that he realized Stiles was adorned in the black leather jacket.

 

Dean smiled, but there wasn’t much happiness behind it. He felt the sting in his eyes as he rubbed them self consciously.

 

_Hey, Cas. A couple more things. One, you better still have that damn trench coat because it has been through hell and back--literally--and if you lose it now, I’ll be pissed. So keep a hold of that damn thing. And um, second, help Stiles. He needs to find Derek. I don’t know if you can help or if you can even hear me. But Cas...._

 

Dean let the words drift away as he tried to pull words to express the necessity, the urgency of the whole ordeal.  But some things are just indescribable.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Stiles awoke on his own to see the hint of the sun peeking at the horizon. He groaned quietly,

 

“Dammit, Dean. You should have woken me up.”

Dean shrugged, “I still probably owe you a week’s worth of full night’s sleep.” Stiles rolled his eyes, then cracked his back.

 

“I’m so getting arthritis.” Dean laughed, hearing the various pops and cracks as Stiles cracked his neck, squeaking at the pain it obviously caused him. “C’mon let’s get a move on.”

 

They hiked for close to forty five minutes when Stiles noticed scratching in the side of tree. His fingers followed the grooves as Dean approached behind him.

 

“Werewolf markings.” Dean announced and Stiles nodded in agreement; his heart quickened its pace.

 

“Let’s keep going.” Dean nodded as they continued through the woods silently. Dean noticed the lack of conversation and it put him off just a little. He wanted to chide Stiles and piss him off so they could get into one of their daily bantering arguments but the serious demeanor Stiles wore was no invitation.  

 

They were walking along the East Ridge’s edge when Stiles stopped still. Dean turned around to look at Stiles, who was as pale as a ghost. Stiles lifted a hand,  pointing to a groupings of bushes that were pushed up against the side of the cliff.  Dean followed Stiles’ outstretched hand when the low guttural growl erupted from the bushes.  Dean lifted his weapon but Stiles was running head first towards the growl.

 

Dean didn’t react quick enough to stop him before it leapt from its den. What had emerged was the exact definition of terrifying and Dean for once was taken back. But not because the werewolf’s once grey t shirt that stretched across his muscled chest was now brown from dried blood. Or how it was ripped in place, exposing a lack of open wounds and scars. Not because the werewolf’s eyes glowed red and it’s fangs were bared in way that made stones sink to the bottom of Dean’s stomach.

 No, he was taken back because of how quickly it all disappeared.

 

Stiles flung himself onto the werewolf, his arms wrapping around its neck and shoulders. The beast slumped to its knees, its arms encircling Stiles.The fangs and claws retracted. A man’s face returned. Hazel eye replacing the blood red irises.  The beast returned to his human self.

 

“Stiles?” Dean saw the back of Stiles’ head nod once as it buried itself into the crook of his neck.  

 

Dean took one step forward and Derek’s eyes flashed open, red.  He growled and flung himself in front of Stiles, crouched low.

 

“Derek. Stop. He’s a friend. He helped me find you.” Dean saw one of Stiles’ hands slug the werewolf in the shoulder. Derek ducked his wolfed out face and when he lifted it back up it was that of a man. He nodded once, jaw set, but remained in that defensive position. Stiles shook his head and stood up, a hand gripped on one of the Alpha’s biceps and another wiping the few tears that stained his cheeks. Derek rose with him and continued to give sideways glances to both Stiles and Dean, not speaking a word.

 

“So....Dean this is Derek. Derek, Dean.” Stiles smiled and made overexaggerated hand gestures. Dean saw Derek try to hold the glower but his eyes were too bright and a smirk kept pulling at his lips whenever he looked at Stiles’ direction.

 

“Dean.” He stuck his hand out and Dean gripped it tight.

“Derek. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Dean shook his hand once and threw Stiles a glance.  

 

“Yeah, okay, so I didn’t tell you he was a werewolf. Big deal. Get over it. I mean we’re all practically the same. Flesh, bone, muscle, heart, spirit, soul, the whole shbang. So he sometimes has a five-head and no eyebrows...” Stiles shrugged and gave Dean a look. They’d been surviving together for close to seven months, Dean knew exactly what he was trying to say. _Say something. I mothafuckin DARE you._  Dean wanted to say something. Wanted to say something so badly. But he and Stiles had been with each other for seven months. Seven whole months, not being separated for a span longer than two minutes. And he knew Stiles, knew him well.

 

And well, while he didn't know the whole story, he didn't really have to.

 

“Dude, we’ve been living in Purgatory for how long? I’ve seen weirder.” Dean shrugged. They’d have the whole are you having safe full moons talk later.  Derek, who had been smiling this whole conversation, suddenly looked murderous.

 

“Stiles, what the _hell_ are you doing here?” His eyes flicked red, and while Dean held a tighter grip to his weapon, Stiles just rolled his eyes.

 

“Don’t be such a sourwolf! I come to save your furry ass and I am being accused of something? Ridiculous.”

 

“Stiles...”

 

“You aren’t going to like what I have to say, so can’t we just pretend--”

 

“Stiles.” The growl of a name rattled Stiles’ ribcage and he realized he’d missed the feeling. _Oh my god, I so need professional help._

 

“Fine, fine. Bossy. I’ll let you play the Alpha card this once. So I kinda, sorta, made adealwithawitchsoshecouldsendmeheresoIcouldsaveyou.” Stiles smiled and Derek’s eyes narrowed.

 

“You. What.”  Stiles looked to Dean for help, but Dean just raised his free hand in surrender. Stiles mouth stood agate as he mouthed,  _Traitor_.

 

“I _told_  you you’d get upset but look! Everything’s fine! I found you, we’re together now! Yay! Hip-hip hooray! I don’t understand. Why aren’t you smiling?”

 

“Stiles, you could have _died_.”

“But I _didn’t_ ”

“That’s not the point.”

“Yeah, well I could have died back home too.”

“Well, now we’re both stuck here in this hell hole, and if you fucking correct me and tell me it isn’t hell; it’s purgatory so help me god Stiles...”

“I wasn’t--” Derek raised an eyebrow “Okay, maybe I was. But we aren’t stuck here! You think I just decided ‘oh hey let’s go join Derek in Purgatory’? No. I did some research, took me close to four months but I did it. I know a way out! Now, we just have to find Dean’s person, Cas.” Derek’s eyes had, somewhere along the conversation, returned to normal.

 

“Dean’s person?”

“Yeah, you were my person. He has a person he has to find too. Several months ago--I’m guessing--I tumbled into Purgatory and met him. We teamed up to find our people and then get the hell out of here.”  Derek tore his eyes away from Stiles, which looked like an immense amount of effort, before directing his words to Dean.

 

“Is your person human?”

“Not exactly.” Stiles was the one to gasp now.

“Whaddyou mean ‘not exactly’?”

“He’s in human form. But he’s just using a vessel. He’s an angel.”

 

Stiles leaned over to Derek and faux-whispered, “And you get pissed at me for calling you Der...”

 

“It’s not a pet name, Stiles. He’s an actual angel.” Dean shook his head as he heard his own words tumble out of his mouth.

 

“Do you know what area he might be in?” Derek asked.

“We were told he was near this side’s river shoreline.”  Derek nodded.

“We should head over there then. Soon, just in case he decides to  move.”

 

Dean and Stiles began to move along but Derek jerked Stiles back by the hood of his sweatshirt, which he’d worn underneath the leather jacket. Dean stopped, his hand clutching his weapon tightly, wary.

 

“Little Red Riding Hoodie? Really?” Derek was smirking and shaking his head. Stiles face lit up. Dean’s grip relaxed.

“So you heard! Did you know it was me?”

“Well, I knew you were Little Red but I didn't believe that you were actually here. Despite the constant uproar of every monster in this damn place.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I’ve been hearing people talk about this Little Red Riding Hoodie for months. How he’s running around Purgatory killing anything that crosses his path? And that right before he kills you he introduces himself.”

“Holy _god_ that sounds so badass!”

 

Dean’s laugh burst from his lips and he had to use his thumb and forefingers to wipe the corners of his eyes.

 

“What?” Stiles and Derek said at the same time.

“Nothing. Just. Little Red Riding Hoodie and the Big Bad Wolf.” The chuckles continued to escape him as he shook his head.

 

“A little slow on the uptake today, are we?” Stiles rolled his eyes as Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. Derek smirked.

 

“Stiles, kept trying to convince me that I didn’t see the irony, and that if I ‘just saw the irony in it’, it would be hilarious. I saw the irony. I just didn't think it was funny.”

 

“Well, to be quite honest, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to spell it out for you and you would just notice that I continued to wear _a red fucking sweatshirt_ every day.”

 

“Oh, I noticed. I thought, like your dog jokes, you’d just give it up eventually.”

 

“Well, the dog jokes are so making a comeback now.”  Derek rolled his eyes, seemingly exasperated, but the small smirk was undeniable.

 

The whole time Derek had an arm wrapped around Stiles’ middle, the grip just a touch softer than painful. Stiles let his leg and side lean against Derek and didn't bother trying to conceal it as needing support. Dean rested his weapon on his shoulder as he turned around and continued down the slope of the hill. Stiles waited a moment to follow.

 

He took a step forward before he turned around and threw his arms around Derek’s torso and wrapped him in a tight hug. He buried his face into the Alpha’s neck. He felt Derek’s shift to bare his throat and _Oops_. He thought. Amazing what you forget in nearly a year’s time. All those alphas and submission and dominance things kind of got pushed to the back of his mind.

 

He mumbled, “Sorry” against the skin and was elated as he felt Derek shake his head, a nonverbal _“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”_

 

“Stiles, there’s something I have to....Stiles, I....” Derek couldn't find the words though. Everything he’d spent the last 11 months thinking about and imaging what he would say if he ever saw Stiles again vanished into thin air. It was all too much. He couldn’t believe he’d been given more time with Stiles, more time to actually say all that he wanted to say. He realized the words would never be enough.

 

“Yeah, me too.” Stiles said into the crook of his neck. Derek squeezed him tighter, his fingers clutching on to the fabric.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The few hours they spent all together on their way to the river were filled mainly with bloodshed. The closer and closer they got to the river the more densely populated the area was with leviathans.

 

Surprisingly to Dean, they all fought really well together and seemed to work effortlessly from the start. The partnership Dean and Stiles had formed and their fighting style fit in perfectly with the techniques Stiles and Derek used. Derek fought well in his human form, but had much more stealth and was twice as deadly when he was--as Stiles put it-- ‘wolfed out’. Despite knowing he was now in a partnership with a werewolf, Dean was always a little surprised when he turned to face Derek and was met with fangs, red eyes, and a pronounced forehead.

 

Derek was always quick to change back to his human form after a fight, which didn't go unnoticed by Dean. It was a small gesture, and while unnecessary, it did put him a little more at ease.  Dean didn't necessarily trust Derek, but he trusted Stiles. And he wasn’t blind. He could see how Derek cared for Stiles, and it was just as much as Stiles cared for Derek.

  


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

They found a good place to camp fairly late into the evening. Dean found a large rock to sit on for watch and pushed it a couple feet closer to the campsite, while Stiles was still moving the needles, small rocks and other debris from the ground. The rock was wide and smooth but no taller than two feet. It’d make a comfortable perch for the night. He brushed the dirt off of his hands and made way to the edge of their shelter. He walked a few dozen feet around the campsite and scoped the ground for a smaller rock he could sharpen his knife on. His eyes scored over the needles and leaves. He picked up two before turning back towards the camp.

 

Derek was sitting on the rock his knees spread open with Stiles plopped in between. Stiles was leaned against the rock in the V of Derek’s legs, his head resting atop of Derek’s left thigh  and against Derek’s lower abs. With an elbow gently resting on Stiles’ shoulder, Derek had a hand carded through Stiles’ hair; it had long grown out from its original buzz cut.  

 

Derek casually glanced over to Dean and lifted his chin in greeting.

 

“Kid’s out already?” Dean whispered knowing Derek would be able to hear him even from several feet away.  Derek nodded, his glance shifting down toward Stiles before returning to Dean.

 

“I told him to go lay down and sleep. He didn't listen. As usual. But I’m sure you’ve gotten used to that by now.” Derek spoke almost too quietly for Dean to hear, a small smile lightly up his face with every word. Dean exhaled heavily in a quiet laugh.

 

“He’s stubborn.” And after a beat, “and persistent.”

Derek smiled wide and looked down at the slightly snoring Stiles, “Deadly combination.” It was quiet for several minutes, only the sounds of banished bugs and the stirring of nocturnal creatures off in the distance. “Dean, thanks. For looking out for him. I know he’s no damsel in distress, but....I feel better knowing he had someone watching out for him. So thank you.”

 

“The kid saved my ass more than a dozen times. And he’s a talker so the time passed pretty quickly. It was nice havin’ him around.” Dean nodded in agreement with his own words.

 

“I’ve got watch tonight. Get some rest. I figure we wake up around dawn or a little before. Then head for the river.”

 

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean stretched his arms over his head and rolled his shoulders a couple of times. “Did Stiles fill you in on how to get out of here?” Derek shook his head.

 

“No, well, he started to. He got off on a tangent then passed out. But he’ll finish telling me eventually.” Derek looked down at Stiles, whose slightly open mouth against his thigh left a small wet spot on the dirty denim. His fingers tugged at the locks on Stiles’ head. “How long has he been here?”

 

“According to him, four months less than you.”

Derek sighed with a sad shake of his head. After a beat, a small, weary smile formed. “Leave it to him to figure a way out of purgatory in four months. Should’ve guessed he'd figure it out and come charging in...”

“How did you two meet exactly?”

“Him and his idiot best friend--”

“Scott?” Dean had heard the story, but a major plot line--cough, cough werewolves--had been left out. He knew a lot about Stiles’ family and friends but it all seemed like a piece was missing. After letting the werewolf-cat out of the bag, Dean felt the story and characters in it become whole.

“Yeah. Well they decided to roam around the woods one night looking for a body. His best friend got bit by a werewolf. A couple days later they were roaming around my property, and I could smell a new wolf. An oblivious sixteen year old looking for his inhaler with a snarky, hyperactive best friend was not what I’d been expecting. I tried to help Scott, to control the shift and his abilities, but he was resistant at first. We all were forced to work together, what with hunters and Kanimas and rogues. Forced into allies I guess you could say. Things grew more stable and secure as time went on. Scott is still pack even though he’s one foot in, one foot out a majority of the time. We bind together when it’s important.”

 

“And Stiles?”

“He’s pack.” Derek declared, sure. “He proved himself a long time ago. You think he’s saved you a couple times...” Derek trailed off. “He’s always there, whether it’s important or not.”Dean nodded, practically seeing Stiles bond his relationship with Derek, just like he’d done with Dean.

 

“Stubborn--”

“--And persistent.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Stiles cracked his neck and yawned, not bothering to even try to open his eyes yet. His neck and back were stiff from sleeping in an odd half upright half slumped position, but he wasn’t complaining; he hadn’t that good of a night’s sleep since before Scott had been turned.

 

Stiles rubbed his eyes and rolled onto his knees, a warm hand rested on his right shoulder blade.

 

“Sleep okay?” Derek’s voice was deep and gruff, yet soft and caring and it was the greatest thing Stiles had ever heard.

 

“My ass is numb, like painfully so, but otherwise I feel fantastic. Greatest amount of solid sleep I’ve had in...well, in a while.” Stiles smiled as he craned his neck to look at Derek. It was still dark out, but the light began to creep at the edges of the horizon, a beacon to their journey today. “Did you sleep at all?” Stiles half whispered, unaware of Dean’s level of consciousness.

 

“Didn’t need to.” The words were soft spoken, having some deeper meaning that Stiles didn’t know if he could delve into.  Derek slid from the rock onto the dirt beside Stiles, who sat back down and leaned against Derek’s side. Their shoulders down to their ankles were pressed tightly together, and the backs of their hands seemed to fit against one another perfectly. Stiles thought that they’d probably be a perfect pair when actually conjoined. He rubbed his pinky finger against Derek’s  as the sun slowly peeked out.

 

It was quiet between them, the only sound being the soft rustling of the leaves as a early morning breeze drifted through. Derek timed his breathing with Stiles, like he’d done all night long, and he listened to the steady thrum of Stiles’ heart, his right hand drumming the rhythm on his thigh.  His senses had been so heightened the previous night, to stand guard and protect them, that he’d refrained from focusing too much on Stiles. Now, he sat with his eyes closed breathing in slowly letting the smell of Stiles fill his lungs. Stiles smelt different from his memories, but close to a year in Purgatory can do that to a person. Derek remembered how Stiles used to smell, of spearmint gum, wet grass, fresh deodorant, and old books, with a lingering smell of chemicals from his Adderall.  The Stiles that was pressed up next to him now smelt like warm dirt, sweat, and oddly enough, sunshine, the smell of hot air like on blistering day in the sun, and you can see the particles in the air through the rays of light. Stiles smelt happy, blissfully happy, exuberant and relaxed. It made Derek’s mouth curl into a smile.  

 

“Stiles...”

“Mm-hmm.” Stiles murmured, his eyes closed.

“You didn’t have to--” Stiles cut him off, speaking in a calm and matter of fact tone.

“Yeah, I did. And as much as I’d love to say saving your furry behind was purely to do a good deed, it wasn’t, not entirely. I did it because I wanted to. For selfish reasons. I made a deal with a witch just as much to make sure you didn't suffer anymore as to save me from having to suffer. So don’t go all _Stiles, I’m not worth saving_ because you are. You deserve to be saved. And I wouldn’t be able to go on otherwise. M’kay?” Stiles’ eyes were still closed as he felt Derek shift. The only warning he received was the warm exhale that tickled his cheek. He felt Derek’s lips press against the hollow of his cheek. They were warm and slightly dry and the feeling matched the brush of Derek’s beard on his jawline.

 

The moment was brief as soon Derek pulled his lips away and tilted his head down, his forehead resting on Stiles’ temple and his nose brushing the top of his cheekbone.  Stiles opened his eyes and turned his face, making Derek’s mouth touch the corner of his lips. They sat there still for a minute, then two, before Stiles closed the distance. His lips met Derek’s and his eyes fluttered closed. It was slow, careful and more intimate than either of them had ever imagined. Stiles’ hand came up to cradle Derek’s face, his thumb brushing Derek’s cheekbone. Stiles' heart beat fast and hard and Stiles thought for a moment that it might just explode out of his chest. He felt Derek’s flat palm placed over it as it hammered against his rib cage. For every push, there was a pull; Derek pulled away and placed a kiss on his jawline as Stiles leaned forward a placed one on his temple. Their lips met back together for one last spark until they both pulled back.

 

Derek’s fingers fumbled down Stiles’ arm until they found and intertwined with Stiles’. Stiles squeezed them hard and Derek looked down at hands.

 

“Well, that was pretty amazing.” Stiles smiled wide. “And we didn't even use tongue.” Derek tilted his head up enough that Stiles could see him roll his eyes, a smirk peeking out much to Stiles’ enjoyment.

 

“Dean’s waking up.”

“Surprised he lasted this long.” Stiles’ smile was plastered on his face, and it would stay there for a long time. Derek was able to control his facial muscles, a majority of the time; Stiles swore it was fifty-fifty.

 

Dean put his face into his hands, his own thumbs cupping his jaw. His pinkies slid down the bridge of his nose and his other fingertips trailed down his face as he lifted his head up. He interlocked his fingers beneath his chin, his elbows resting on his knees. He looked up into the early morning sky. He looked and looked into the grey of the sky and found he couldn’t muster up a prayer this morning.

 

He closed his eyes and breathed out Cas’ name in his mind. He played the memories from before through his mind like a movie, skipping to all the best parts. Dean laughed to himself thinking that the days of the apocalypse had some of the best scenes.

 

Dean finished his makeshift prayer with a smile, hoping Cas would be able to see it or at least know it was there.

 

He pushed at the tops of his knees and stood up, hearing creaks and cracks from half his joints in the process. He didn't think about it too often, but how he longed for a bed to sleep on. A bed, as in, a mattress and sheets and pillows.

 

An end was in sight though. All he had to do was find Cas, then they could make their way outta there.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Dean felt his step quicken as they got closer and closer to the East ridge. He could hear a faint rushing of water in the distance. Stiles was beside him but only a step or two behind. Derek brought up the rear, keeping a protective watch over Stiles.

 

Dean felt his heart stutter as he saw movement through the brush. He'd spent a year in purgatory and it had made him extremely cautious and maybe only a little paranoid. But no panicked thoughts came to him now. His body moved of its own accord, rushing down the little side hill before it came to a three foot drop off. His muscles stilled, frozen, as Stiles and Derek jogged up behind him. Dean felt himself smile wide, his mouth slightly open as he let out a heavy exhale.

 

He saw the now dirty, filthy trench coat and a thick head of dark brown hair. Cas was stooped over the river, his hands in the icy water and he'd stilled as he felt a familiar presence. Dean dropped down from the ledge, Cas’ name loudly escaping his lips.  He strode over to Cas and heard a quiet, “Dean.” Pushing on the tops of his knees, Cas stood up and turned around a shocked fearful smile creeping onto his lips.

 

"Cas..." Dean practically whispered as he wrapped his arms around the angel tightly, his chin tucked over the angel's shoulder. They stood there for a moment and then Dean felt arms encircle his waist and clutch his sides tightly. Dean huffed a nervous and relieved laugh. "Cas, damn it’s good to see you.” Dean began to pull away, his fingers trailing on Cas’ arms. The loss of contact resulted in a mild panic in Dean’s chest. His arm extended again, his hand lightly tracing Cas’ cheek. He quickly pulled it away mumbling gruffly, “Nice peach fuzz.”  Cas’ conflicted face worried Dean, as he could see equal parts elated and angry pass over Cas’ expression.

 

“Hey, um. There’s some guys I’d like you to meet. This is Stiles, and that’s Derek.” Stiles waved and Derek gave a nod. Cas looked in their direction before turning back to Dean.

 

“Dean, how...how did you find me?” His voice was surprised and quiet, yet still shook Dean to his core.

 

“A bloody way. You feelin’ okay?”

“You mean if I’m still watching the bees? Well, I’m perfectly sane. Though 94% of psychotics believe themselves to be sane. So the question we should be asking ourselves is what _is_ sane.” Dean couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Oh how he’d missed Cas’ blunt observations and comments.

 

“Good question.” Dean continued to smile, not noticing the how close Stiles had approached, Derek in tow.

 

“So, where’ve you been? Why’d you ditch Dean?” Stiles had his arms crossed over his chest. Derek looked at him from the corner of his eye as he stood next to him.

 

“Dude--” Dean began before Stiles cut him off again.

“No. From what I hear, the moment you two got in here, you disappeared. It’s been almost a year, Dean. I think he owes you a fucking explanation of where he’s been.” Dean shook his head.

 

“Stiles, we were ambushed when we first got here. It was crazy and hectic. Cas probably got attacked by some freak and we got separated.” Dean looked to Castiel for confirmation. Cas’ wide eyed gaze was not comforting.

 

“But he’s an angel right? Can’t he like poof himself back to you? It’s been a year Dean, I think he could have used his supernatural super powers to find you.”

 

Castiel’s head lowered before his gaze returned to Dean.

 

“Dean, I am....I ran away.”

 

“You...you _ran away?_ We got ambushed by freaking gorilla wolves and you _ran away_. Cas--”

 

“I had to.”

 

“So, _that’s_ your excuse--for leaving me to fend for myself against a pack of fucking monsters that I’ve never even heard of?”

 

“Dean, I--”

 

“Cas, I prayed to you. Every night.” Dean refused to acknowledge the moistness of his eyes and the slight quiver of his voice. Cas looked down, his face solemn.

 

“I know.”

 

“You know? You heard me, every night. And you, you just ignored it. Cas, I thought--”

 

“Dean, I am an angel in purgatory. I’ve been hunted since the moment I got here--” Cas’ steady voiced was cut off.

 

“Yeah, well welcome to the club.” Dean shouted earning him a cold stare from Cas, anger flushing his face.

 

“Dean. I am an _angel_ in a land of abominations. I’m not just being attacked. I’m being hunted by leviathans. I have a price on my head. And I’ve been trying, desperately, to stay one step ahead of them. To keep them...to keep them away _from you_.” Cas’ jaw quivered as he tried to stand tall.

 

“Cas--”

 

“Dean, you must leave me. It’s not safe...”

 

“No shit. Together or not, this whole place isn’t safe. It’s the monster afterlife, Cas. We’re better...together.” Cas was quiet. He wanted so badly to refute everything Dean was saying, because he was a danger to Dean’s safety, but here was Dean after so long and Cas didn’t think he _could_ stray away. “Cas, we got a way out. Stiles, see, he knows how to get us out of here. We’re going home.”

 

“Dean, I--”

 

“Stiles, tell him.” Stiles arms had uncrossed themselves somewhere throughout the conversation. He was still upset with Cas for leaving Dean, but he could also partially see where Cas was coming from. Derek was much more sympathetic. He knew Cas’ side and understood it wholeheartedly. How many times had Derek made the decision to distance himself from those he loved and cared about in order to keep them safe? Derek understood Cas all too well.

 

“There’s portals all over purgatory. All we got to do is find one and go through it. Humans get by no problem. Supernatural beings got it a little more complicated. I know how to get ‘wolves out. But I don’t have a clue if these portals are angel friendly; I’m thinking the same way Derek’s gonna get out, should work for you too.”

 

“Either way, we’ll figure it out.” Dean exhaled, “Cas, buddy, I need you.” Cas wanted to say yes, if not only so he could be with Dean, but to give Dean an answer that would make him happy. He wanted to, more than anything. He wanted Dean out of this damn place and he wanted him to be safe and happy.

 

“Dean--”

 

“And if leviathans, wanna take a shot at us, let ‘em. We’ve ganked those bitches before and we can do it again.” Cas opened his mouth and Dean could see the protest before it even escaped his lips. “Let me bottom line it for ya, I’m not leaving here without you.” They held each other’s gaze for what seemed like hours before Cas nodded.

 

Dean smiled in response and he couldn’t help the arm that slung around Cas’ shoulders as they walked away from the riverbed.

 

Stiles beamed as he went to follow them. Derek slipped his hand into Stiles’. Their fingers interlocked as they hiked out of the area.  Stiles practically had a skip in his step, Derek and his joined hands swinging from the momentum.

 

“Hey, find my person, check. Find Dean’s person, check. One last thing, find the portal and go home!”

 

“Should be easy enough.”  

 

“Hey, hey, Mr. Sourwolf. Enough with the sarcastic sass. Finding _your two asses_ was definitely the hardest of the three tasks and we already got those in the bag. We’ll find that portal if it’s the last thing I do.”

Dean laughed, "Remember Derek, stubborn and persistent.”  

“How could I forget?” Derek’s voice was smug. Stiles knocked Derek’s hip with his own, and Derek gave way, not wanting Stiles to inadvertently hurt himself.

 

Fast forward two months, six days, and two hours when a flash of purple haze peaked out from the trees in a small preserve in Maine. Stiles stumbled on the ground and quickly took a knife to his forearm as Dean and Cas stumbled out behind him. Dean looked around cautiously before accepting the fact that they had finally gotten out. He turned to look at Cas, seeing Derek picking himself off of the ground.  Amidst Stiles celebratory cursing and jumping around and Derek’s good natured mocking, Dean’s hand found Cas’. And after a moment’s hesitation their fingers slotted into place, Dean’s thumb rubbing the back of Cas’ knuckles. Stiles jumped into Derek’s arms, his legs wrapping around Derek’s waist, and demanded to spun around. Derek managed to put up a fight for all of three seconds. As the trees blurred from the fast spinning, Stiles’ laughter echoed through the forest, his arms wrapped around Derek’s neck. He leaned in, dizzy, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of Derek’s lips. Derek’s smile was wide and happy as he tightened his grip on Stiles.

 

Derek dropped Stiles to the ground as Dean and Cas smiled happily at one another. Derek pretended he couldn’t hear Dean’s whispered sweet nothings. Cas was no longer wearing the wary, distant look he had been sporting over the past few months. Over time it had slowly faded, but now that it had ended, and they’d been giving a whole new beginning, Cas allowed himself to live in the moment.  Cas squeezed Dean’s hand. “We _are_ , like you said, better together.”

  
  
~fin~


End file.
